The
main dining room of the Polo Lounge at the Beverly Hills Hotel
sat empty on Wednesday at 1 p.m.The
Hollywood Reporter

On any ordinary weekday, every table at the Beverly Hills Hotel’s
iconic Polo Lounge is filled to capacity with industry movers and
shakers like Steven
Spielberg, Ari
Emanuel and Jeffrey
Katzenberg, all regulars at the 73-year-old power
spot.But these days, the room
is a ghost town.

Caught in the middle of the ballooning Beverly Hills Hotel
boycott -- a direct response to a decision by its owner,
the Sultan of Brunei, to institute Sharia
law in his country, which calls for the stoning to death of gays
and adulterers -- a Hollywood Reporterfield trip on Wednesday
for the midday meal found 1 p.m. to be as busy as 1 a.m.

Two hours earlier, an anonymous reservation call was placed, and
a gracious female voice on the other end fielded the request for
a highly sought-after booth for two. What would typically yield a
"Sorry, we're booked" instead earned a cheerful "We'll do our
absolute best!" For the eatery ranked No. 2 on THR’s 2014 Power Lunch
survey, this did not bode well.

At a little past 1 p.m., these reporters' beat-up Japanese SUV
pulled past rows of parked Maybachs, Aston Martins and
Bentleys and was swiftly whisked off by one of the hotel's
famously overworked valets, who on this day sat idle.

From the scene inside the hotel's circular lobby, one might not
get the immediate sense that anything was wrong, as bright-eyed
desk clerks described amenities to a smattering of arriving
guests while a number of well-heeled patrons lounged nearby.

But upon entering the Polo Lounge, located to the far right of
the lobby, it became instantly clear that something was amiss.
The mossy green front room, including the mighty Booth 1 – a
coveted piece of U-shaped real estate where Viacom
chief Sumner Redstone has broken bread
countless times with Tom Cruise – sat
entirely empty.

In the middle of the lunch rush, a lonely pianist, tinkling out
the likes of Coldplay’s “Spiderwebs” and “Nadia’s Theme”
from The Young & the Restless, was accompanied
only by wandering white-suited waiters with too little to do.

Whatever action there was took place on the outdoor patio, but a
trio of friendly hostesses said getting a table there would
require a wait. (Despite sunny skies and comfortable 66-degree
temperatures, only about half the outside tables were occupied.)
Instead, THR chose to be seated at a prime
booth in the second, smaller dining room overlooking the terrace,
where about one-third of the tables were filled.

THR took note of the slow scene to one employee,
who dispiritedly acknowledged, with eyes surveying the atmosphere
beyond us, “Yes, it’s been quiet these past few days.”

The majority of the sparse crowd appeared to be hotel guests, not
business lunchers: a long-haired rocker type and female companion
in thigh-baring jean shorts; a man in his 60s whispering to a
blonde man in his 20s; a South Asian family of four digging into
a complimentary basket of crispy flatbread; two women in their
50s gossiping over a pink leftovers container.

And while business was still being conducted amid the low din of
the dining room, a sense crept in that it was on a far more
modest scale than usual. Non-disclosure agreements involving a
potential true-life story, possibly for a made-for-TV movie,
traded hands at a nearby table of four.

Star wattage was in short supply but not completely absent, as a
single, recognizable actor held court in an outside booth,
squeezed between three companions plotting career strategies: It
was Dev Patel, star of HBO's The
Newsroom and Slumdog Millionaire. A
representative from Patel's camp said the London-based actor was
in town on business and was completely unaware of the boycott,
adding that he "has no intention of going back there."

Tucked not too far away in a corner table for two was Paris-born
philanthropist Nicolas Berggruen, sometimes
called “the homeless billionaire” for his penchant for living
exclusively in luxury hotels. He dined with a friend.

An attentive server swooped in to take beverage orders and relay
the specials, but THR stuck to the classics:
the finely chopped McCarthy Salad ($33, named
for Neil McCarthy, a polo player who
frequented the lounge) and the Maine Lobster Salad ($39,
refreshingly citrusy). Both arrived promptly and were delicious.

Dessert took us to the Fountain Coffee Room on the lower floor,
the same legendary lunch counter where Marilyn
Monroe once sipped on milkshakes. The signature
Chocolate Coconut Cake was as moist as ever and the coffee
strong. As for the clientele – four men, each engrossed in a
solitary lunch – Sharia law seemed the furthest thing from their
minds.

But upstairs, the mood was undeniable. In just one week, the Polo
Lounge has transformed from one of Hollywood's hottest haunts
into its loneliest luncheonette.